Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“Stupid bitch,” Joshua murmurs and turns to his backpack. I push my hair off my face to see him pulling out a knife. He sets it on the mattress next to the garrote.
“What are you going to do to me?” I ask fearfully.
Joshua turns to look at me, a wry smile on his face. “I’m not sure yet. Maybe I’m just going to scare the shit out of you, maybe I’ll use all this stuff. Hell, maybe I’ll just shoot you and be done with it. I’m figuring this out as I go.”
“Jesus Christ, Joshua.” I push up from the floor and slowly rise to my feet. “You’ll go to prison for the rest of your life. How can you throw your life away over this?”
“I’m not going to prison,” he says confidently. “They’ll have to catch me first and I’ll be long gone by the time they find you and Callum. But if they do find me, no way I’m getting taken by the police. I’ll end it myself.”
“You selfish, arrogant bastard,” I seethe, not caring if he shoots me. “You don’t care who you’ll destroy in the process for a little revenge, do you?”
“Nope. Not really,” he replies flatly. “Well beyond caring.”
And I believe him.
CHAPTER 29
Callum
Pain is what pulls me into consciousness. My head throbs with piercing intensity, a relentless drumbeat that echoes through my skull and forces me awake. I open my eyes and find myself staring at the base of the metal cabinets in my garage. It comes rushing back—Joshua with a gun and Juniper—
Fuck! Juniper.
I attempt to push up from the ground but the world tilts and spins, a dizzying whirl of shadows and dim light. My hand lands in something wet and when I hold it up, visible in the light cast off from the sidewalk streetlamps, I see glistening red. I don’t need to touch my scalp where Joshua hit me twice to know the blood is mine.
Once again, I try to stand, ignoring the sharp lance of pain that shoots through my head, threatening to anchor me back down. I disregard the swell of nausea and push to my knees. I have to assume my wounds aren’t as devastating as they could’ve been and it’s not lost on me that this entire story—of how Juniper came back to me—started with my mom lying on a stone-cold patio with a severe head injury. She wasn’t pistol-whipped, but she was a victim of the Willards, just as Juniper was and now just as I am.
The only difference is, I’m going to make at least one of those fuckers pay for it.
I stagger to my feet, leaning heavily against the car for support. My rubbery legs feel barely able to hold my weight. The world dips and sways, and I close my eyes for a moment, willing the dizziness to pass. Breathing in deeply, I focus on the door leading into the house. It seems impossibly far and every step I take is a battle against the swirling darkness that threatens to engulf me. My ears are ringing but the sound is muffled, as if I’m underwater. I can’t hear anything else—are Joshua and Juniper even here?
I reach the door, my hand trembling as I grasp the knob. It turns easily, almost too easily, and I grip onto it hard so I don’t pitch forward.
My instinct is to crash through, going into attack mode to save Juniper, but I don’t know what’s on the other side. Breathing through my mouth seems to steady me and I force myself to move slowly so I don’t fall over, but more importantly, so I have the element of surprise.
The door opens silently, or my ears aren’t working right, but I can immediately see the kitchen and living area beyond are empty. I always leave lights on inside when I’m gone and while they provide me with a clear view, they also hurt my eyes and distort things via my concussed brain.
I take a step forward, then another, driven by a single thought: I have to save Juniper and I don’t even fucking know if they’re in the house.
Noises catch my attention, seeming to punch through my plugged-up ears. Voices… male and female… coming from our bedroom.
Juniper is in there with that monster.
I lurch into the kitchen, intent on getting to the bedroom as quickly as possible but I’m brought up short by a very important thought.
Turning to the kitchen island, I move to the edge and open the drawer that holds the knives. A sparkling array of sharpened cutlery greets me but that’s not what I’m after.
Instead, I reach for the Glock 43X I stashed there. It’s not my favorite pistol but I put it here because its size is more suited to Juniper. I don’t know why I assumed that if she needed a gun at the ready, the kitchen was where she would be. She spends as much time in the living room or my bedroom these days, but I don’t waste any energy reasoning it out. All that matters is that I’ve now got a weapon and oddly, I feel stronger with it in my hand.